This Ship Will Carry Us
by lovingcaptainswan
Summary: A series of unrelated AU oneshots, centering mainly around Lieutenant Jones and Princess Emma. Ratings vary.
1. The Runaway

_**The Runaway**_

_**Rating: T**_

_**Summary: Every few months it was the same. They'd get notice that the rebellious princess had once again fled the palace, and every time he'd rescue her. It was torture. **_

* * *

The ship creaked and swayed with the rolling of the tides, but the princess glided across the captain's quarters as if she had been born at sea. And she should. This wasn't her first time aboard _The Jewel_, a detail that Lieutenant Jones was all too familiar with over the past year. Her pale blue dress (a bit tattered at the edges and worn) slid along the smooth, wooden floor as she walked towards the porthole, stretching on her tip-toes to peer out, looking all innocence and elegance – a ruse that he would be much more inclined to fall for if he didn't _personally_ know any better. It was then that he finally cleared his throat loudly (positive that she had been well aware that he had been standing in the doorway for some time now), knowing that if he watched her pretending to be alone in that little room for much longer that this little _visit _would turn into something entirely different, something that he'd thought about far more than was proper for a Lieutenant to a princess.

Her dress spun around her ankles as she whirled towards the sound, her expression full of mock-surprise. "Oh, Lieutenant, forgive me. I didn't realize that you were there," she offered innocently with a slight curtsey.

He nodded curtly, swallowing hard. "_Of course you didn't, love," _a sarcastic voice in his head retorted, but the Lieutenant in him simply said, "_Princess," _bowing his head a bit as to avoid looking her in the eye – she wasn't the only one who could put on false airs of professionalism. "I've come to inform you that the winds have been greatly in our favor on the trip home. We'll be making port shortly before dawn." He wanted to wait for her acknowledgement and leave it at that, he wanted to turn on his heel and walk out of the room and tell Liam that he had done as he had been told, but he found himself stuck to the spot, staring holes into the floorboards, daring to look into her green eyes only after a painfully long moment. "…I trust you are well?"

She smiled, and he swore he saw a brief glimmer of triumph in that smile as she let herself fall into a large, plush lounge that sat in one of the corners of the room. "Very well, thanks to my_ rescuer_," she teased in a light, airy tone, reclining against the back lazily, letting her arms float up above her head and crossing lightly at the wrists, her dress slipping up her leg just enough to expose a hint of her calf.

His breath caught at the sensual display and for a moment, he couldn't remember what the _professional_ thing to say was anymore. He couldn't think of_ anything_ to say. How could he? He was too busy remembering what it felt like to be sprawled atop her, sweating, wanton, kissing her neck, letting his two hands roam freely over her smooth, pale skin, remembering every moan, every gasp that he elicited from her (her voice so different than the 'polite princess' one that she put on now), remembering how he couldn't have her again – and it was bloody _torture_.

"You can't keep doing this, Emma."

She glanced back at him, quirking a playful eyebrow, pleased that he had finally called her by her name and taking the defeat in his tone as another triumph. "Doing what? Shirking my duties as a princess? Does Lieutenant Stick-In-The-Mud Jones disprove of my rebellion?" She went on with a roll of her eyes.

"Running off like this. Putting yourself into danger," he scolded, more gruffly than he had intended, fist curling at his side. "The King and Queen-"

"The _King and Queen_ have a remarkably reliable navy at their command that seem perfectly capable of-"

"Why do you keep doing this?" _To me._ The unspoken words hung heavy in the air like a thick fog that surrounded them.

"Because I know you'll rescue me."

"And why do you want _us_ to rescue you, Princess?"

She sighed, tipping her head back as if in impatience. "Do you really need to ask, Killian?"

"I… It's _Lieutenant Jones_."

His stuttering correction seemed to only egg her on further. "So commanding about your name, aren't we, Lieutenant? One night you're just _begging me_ to say 'Killian' and the next it's 'Lieutenant Jones'. It's not polite to send such mixed signals," she retorted primly, clucking her tongue.

Killian swallowed hard, gritting his teeth so tightly together that it pained his jaw, finding himself growing more and more frustrated with every smirk she cast his way. Damn the woman for being able to get to him like this, damn this proper princess act, _damn her_!

"I wasn't- Gods, Emma, I wasn't aware at the time that you were the bloody princess," he hissed, careful to keep his voice low. "You were- I was- I could be stripped of my _rank_, hells, I could be _hanged _for this should anyone find out! What would my brother-"

"And yet _you_ still come to my room on the long voyage back to my parents' realm, rather than your brother…"

There it was. The straw that broke the camel's back. Of course he came to her, what choice did he have? She'd gotten under his skin, seduced him like a siren and then refused to leave him to his misery. He had been naive and happy to merely sail the seas with Liam before he had met her and now he was under her spell. All thoughts of propriety left him as he finally allowed the anger of the past year, the temptation, the teasing, the nagging irritation that kept bubbling below the surface every time they were sent to retrieve the impudent, runaway princess begin to rise.

"_Why do you do this?_ Is it to torture me? Is it to make me lose my military bearing? To get me to bloody admit that I haven't gone a day without thinking of you since those two nights at port ten months ago? God damn it, Emma! Just tell me what you want from me!"

Emma looked as if she'd been slapped in the face, his anger lashing out at her like the bite of a whip – it wasn't often that a princess was spoken to like this, and now, looking into his pained expression, she felt ashamed of all the teasing. She truly wasn't as smug as she had been playing herself off as, she wasn't so confident that she'd roll her eyes and tell him to leave her presence and return when they've arrived like another might. This was a game that she had been determined not to lose, she had been determined not to break first. If she did… She wouldn't allow herself to be seen as so vulnerable, but now, having sentenced him to the same fate, she felt only guilt.

Suddenly, Killian felt like he may have gone too far. He had formed the words to say as much when she spoke.

"Maybe I don't like being a princess," she began slowly, drawing circles into the lounge with her finger, staring at it for a moment before looking up into his burning gaze, sitting up, her voice becoming stronger. "Maybe I feel more at home among the farmers and at the taverns chatting up sailors than with the castle guards or stuffy noblemen who want nothing more than my hand in marriage," she paused, lifting her eyes, only sincerity left there as she dropped her voice to a whisper. "Maybe those two nights meant something to me and I just want to see you, Killian."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them, followed by a creak as it swung open. "Princess," Liam nodded cordially. "Lieutenant Jones, I need you on the main deck. I trust you've told the Princess the news?"

"Aye, Captain," he replied quickly, shooting a wary glance at Emma before looking back at his brother. "I'll be up in a moment, brother."

"I'll need you _now_, Lieutenant, the winds are picking up too quickly for my liking."

Killian took a deep breath, nodding once to his brother, then once to Emma, casting her a soft, apologetic look before making a move to follow his captain. "Princess," he managed, aching knowing that it was likely the only goodbye he'd get, knowing that by the time they'd reached her kingdom that she'd be surrounded by crew members and guards and servants that would escort her back to her castle.

"Until next time, Lieutenant Jones."

He finally allowed himself to smile, a quiet chuckle rumbling from his chest. "Until next time, Princess."

**End**

_**A/n: This is a oneshot, but I'm considering writing a smutty prequel about those two nights. Yes? ;)**_


	2. Just This Once

_**Just This Once**_

_**Rating: T (slight sexual themes, but mostly fluff)**_

_**Summary: Emma basks in the glow of the morning after her wedding to Lieutenant Jones.**_

* * *

The sun was just beginning to rise, the light peeking through the window of the Princess' bedroom, threatening to engulf it entirely in sunlight any minute now.

That's what Emma felt like this morning. _Engulfed in sunlight._ Sated. Well-slept. Positively radiant. She could swear that she was glowing, though that had less to do with the sunlight and more to do with… well, _other occurrences_ of the night before – her wedding night, to be exact.

She smiled to herself at the thought and snuggled further into the lavish covers that were more or less in a tangled mess and she wished nothing more than for them to be in such a state every morning for the rest of her days. All of her life she had heard the whispered horror stories about the marriage bed and _wifely duties_. She had watched other girls, friends of noble birth married off to men young and old, some for love, many of them arranged. She had sat through awkward talks with her mother of duty and suitors and love and desire and what to expect when the day came to act on them (those had certainly been _interesting _talks to say the least), and wondered what her future would hold for her. Which would she have? A princess who chose to marry a shepherd boy out of love, or would she be forced into such a life where this bed held nothing but thoughts of duty and bearing sons and temporary unpleasantness that you daydreamed away until it was over.

Thoughts that had been long gone from the very day that she had met Lieutenant Killian Jones, and most certainly long before her wedding night – she never had been quite the _proper princess_ and it turned out that he wasn't quite the _proper lieutenant_ either when it came to her.

_Gods, he had been handsome though._ The afternoon she had first laid eyes on him, his had shone as clear and blue as the sea, his uniform prim and pressed, stuttering and bowing nervously, blush heating his neck when they had bumped into each other (quite literally) in the castle halls after he and his brother had been invited to court to convene with her father, the king, about an upcoming mission. She had sworn from the momentary terror in his eyes that he had feared he would lose his head for daring stumble flat into the princess, and that day, perhaps that very moment, she had the briefest thought, like a silly schoolgirl with a crush, that maybe a man like him could be her shepherd boy.

And now look where they were.

Married. _Emma._ A princess of the Enchanted Forest, married to a promising young naval lieutenant.

She smiled again when the man beside her stirred ever so slightly and she turned to her side to watch her new husband as his chest rose and fell in gentle breaths, admiring how peaceful he looked while he slept. She scooted a few inches closer, pressing her body into his side and resting her chin on his shoulder, feeling warm and complete, as she let her hand splay out over his body, skim over his chest, playing at the dark hairs, then following the trail lower until she could feel the relaxed but toned muscles of his stomach beneath her fingers. She could look at him for hours on end, touch him for more, but soon she'd have to give him up. It was the price she paid for marrying a decorated member of the Royal Navy, gone for months at a time, returning to her for less, only to leave again – but she could certainly make up for it while he was with her, right there in her bed.

That thought in mind, she slowly let her hand trail lower, fingers brushing at his skin until she reached him deep beneath the blankets where he remained pleasantly unclothed, gripping him lightly, then moving up and down in lazy strokes. She smirked against his skin when he let out a soft groan in his sleep, and she released him, dragging her hand back up to his stomach, starting to close her eyes again. Immediately she felt a gentle hand grasping at her wrist and pushing her back down to where she had been touching him.

"Was last night not enough for you, Lieutenant?" she whispered teasingly into his ear, resuming her strokes and nibbling at his earlobe, amused that his eyes remained closed and that despite his previous movement, he appeared for all intents and purposes to still be sound asleep. There was a long lingering pause and she sped her hand, tightening when he didn't reply.

"…_Emma_…"

"Yes, Killian?"

He groaned again quietly, arching the slightest bit into her hand, his arousal becoming obvious. "We don't have time," he breathed, sounding pained by his own words.

"Oh, don't we?" she went on in an innocent tone of voice, widening her eyes for emphasis even though he couldn't see them through closed lids. "Then why did you move my hand?"

Finally, his eyes fluttered open, that same, vivid blue that she had fallen in love with the day they had met, as he moved them to look at her. "Because I enjoy it there," he replied, all playful gruffness, pressing his head further into the pillows.

"_Do you_?"

Unable to help himself any longer, he rolled himself on top of her, pressing his hips against hers in a fluid motion, both hands pinning her wrists to the pillow on either side of her head. "Does it feel like I don't, love?" he grinned sleepily, alertness seeping into his eyes and tone as he held himself suspended above her. "I should have thought last night was indicative of how I felt about your hands… and your lips… and _every bloody part_ of you," he dipped his head low to rasp the words into her ear, taking the opportunity to kiss her neck, lingering there.

Her breath hitched and she sighed shakily. "I thought we didn't have time?"

"It's still early yet. And Liam's allowed a late start due to the occasion."

"Don't you always arrive to the ship hours early like a dedicated young officer?" she jested playfully, her words dissolving into a breathy moan when he nipped at her pulse point.

"Seeing as last night was our wedding night, I feel my _dedication _can afford to slip… just this once, don't you?"

"Just this once," she repeated as his mouth traveled back up her jaw and slanted against hers, sighing happily, hoping that it would be much much more than _just this once_.

**End**


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